


a year has fled o’er heart and head

by Singofsolace



Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F, First Kiss, Fluff, New Year's Eve, New Year's Kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-19 00:33:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22169023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Singofsolace/pseuds/Singofsolace
Summary: Mary Wardwell has never been kissed on New Year's Eve. Zelda seeks to rectify this grave injustice.Written in response to the first Madam Spellman 2020 Challenge prompt: New Year's
Relationships: Zelda Spellman/Mary Wardwell, Zelda Spellman/Mary Wardwell | Madam Satan | Lilith
Comments: 18
Kudos: 125
Collections: Madam Spellman 2020 Challenge





	a year has fled o’er heart and head

**Author's Note:**

> The title is borrowed from "Song of the New Year" by Elizabeth Cook. These two lines spoke to me with their witch-like potential: "a year has fled o’er heart and head / since last the yule log burnt." This fic is very fluffy and sweet. First kisses are the best. Please let me know what you think!

Mary Wardwell had never been fond of parties. She would much prefer a quiet evening at home, trying to put the pieces of her life back together, but Sabrina had seemed so earnest and hopeful when she handed her the invitation. While she felt it slightly inappropriate to attend a party where her former and current students would no doubt be engaging in activities of which she would not approve, Mary had recently found the solitude of her cabin to be stifling, rather than cozy, and didn’t relish the thought of being alone on New Year’s Eve.

In any case, she accepted the invitation. She showed up to the Spellman Mortuary precisely on time, with a tray of almond cookies heavy in her arms. Sabrina had answered the door, looking far older than Mary remembered, despite the fact that she was only missing a few months of her memory. Sabrina had matured, both physically and emotionally, which made Mary wonder, not for the first time, what _exactly_ had happened while she had suffered what the doctors had called a “neurological event.”

“Miss Wardwell!” said Hilda Spellman, coming up behind Sabrina and offering to relieve her of the tray. “Welcome!”

“Thank you for having me,” said Mary Wardwell, her voice a bit more stilted than she would like as Sabrina took her coat.

“I didn’t want you to be alone on New Year’s Eve,” said Sabrina as she hung the jacket on a vintage-looking coatrack.

“And we certainly have enough food to feed an army!” added Hilda, smiling warmly at Mary and lifting the tray as evidence.

“I—I didn’t know what else to bring,” stammered Mary. “I didn’t think champagne would be—appropriate—what with my being Sabrina’s teacher and—”

“Miss Wardwell, it’s ok,” said Sabrina, motioning for her to follow them into the kitchen. “My aunts let me drink as long as I’m responsible and don’t hide it from them.”

Nodding mutely, Mary took in the Spellman kitchen. Hilda hadn’t been exaggerating when she said that there was enough food for an army; every available surface was covered with appetizers and sweets. Realizing suddenly that she didn’t hear any other voices, Mary began to grow nervous.

“Have I arrived too early? Where are all the other guests?”

“They’ll be here!” said Sabrina, taking a pizza roll off of one of the plates and popping it into her mouth. “You’re not early—everyone else is just late.”

“I see,” said Mary as Hilda handed her a glass of some kind of alcoholic mixture. “What is this?”

“Just taste it,” said Hilda with a cheeky wink. “It’ll warm you right down to your toes.”

Hilda was right. After just a small sip, she could already feel the alcohol doing its magic. She felt much lighter and warmer almost instantaneously.

Just then, there was a knock at the door. Mary listened as Sabrina went to answer it, not at all surprised to hear a number of young voices creating a cacophony of sound in the foyer once the door was opened. It would seem the party had officially begun.

* * *

After several hours of chaperoning her niece’s New Year’s Eve party, Zelda Spellman was certain that she was going to need a much stiffer drink than the concoction Hilda had made if she was going to make it all the way to midnight. As far as parties went, it wasn’t particularly rowdy (especially by witch-standards) but when Sabrina had asked to hold a celebration to ring in the new year, Zelda hadn’t expected so many people. She hadn’t thought that Sabrina had retained so many mortal friends after her stint at the Academy of Unseen Arts, but then, nothing about her niece ought to surprise her anymore after the year that they had had.

Zelda had seen more than three centuries pass her by, and for much of that time, she had been in close contact with mortals, but even still, she had never gotten used to the fact that a single revolution around the sun could possibly be worth celebrating. A new millennium, sure—though she could have done without the Y2K hysteria—but all of this hype over a brief decade that had gone by in the space of what felt like a single breath? Zelda couldn’t quite seem to grasp the significance.

Determined not to let her lack of enthusiasm ruin the lively atmosphere of Sabrina’s soirée, Zelda decided to spend what little time remained of the decade smoking and drinking out on the porch. The music could still be heard through the walls, but it was at least at a much more tolerable level now that she was farther from the heavenly racket.

The air was crisp, but Zelda had donned her winter coat and fur scarf before taking a step outside. The weather had called for a light snowfall, though she had yet to see a single flake. Staring out over the mortuary, Zelda felt an odd sensation settle over her body like a too-heavy blanket. It wasn’t melancholy—not quite—but something equally cloying and unwanted.

Suddenly, the fragile state of Zelda’s solitude was shattered by the door opening. Not feeling particularly interested in moving on someone else’s account, Zelda remained seated in her rocking chair, letting the smoke from her cigarette curl and dissipate into the cold air.

For a brief moment, Zelda didn’t recognize the woman who had breezed out the door and over to the railing, clearly in need of some quiet time herself. Staring at the back of the woman’s head, Zelda was puzzled by the sight of a hairstyle that hadn’t been popular since the 1940s. After the woman had taken a few deep breaths, she turned, and Zelda couldn’t help letting out a gasp.

It was her Queen—but no, that wasn’t right. The woman nearly jumped out of her skin at the sight of her High Priestess, which left only one possibility: Mary Wardwell.

* * *

It was nearing midnight when Mary Wardwell decided she needed a break from the crowd of mostly teenagers currently making enough noise to wake the dead. It was too much. Her senses were overstimulated and she could feel the panic rising in her chest. Not wanting to suffer a panic attack in front of so many familiar faces, she rushed to the door. Forgetting that her coat was still somewhere inside, Mary stepped out into the night, feeling cold air sting her lungs as she took several deep breaths.

Far more grounded, but freezing down to her bones, Mary turned and was given a fright as she realized she wasn't alone. Zelda Spellman was sitting a few feet away, smoking and nursing a glass of whiskey.

“Miss Wardwell?” Zelda asked hesitantly, as if she was uncertain if she had the right name.

“Yes,” said Mary, beginning to walk back towards the door. “I’m sorry to have disturbed you.”

“Please, don’t go on my account,” said Zelda as she stood. “Though you’ll catch your death out here in only your sweater.”

As if in response to Zelda’s words, Mary’s body shivered violently.

“Here,” said Zelda, moving very close as she removed her heavy fur scarf. “Take this.”

Even as Mary protested, Zelda wrapped the fur around her shoulders. Mary was momentarily struck dumb by the intimacy of the gesture, coming from a near-stranger.

“But won’t you be cold without out it?” said Mary, already feeling much better beneath the weight and warmth of the fur.

“One thing you’ll learn very quickly about me, Miss Wardwell, is that I’m as warm-blooded as they come,” said Zelda, smirking before taking another drag of her cigarette.

Not knowing how to respond to that, but certain she was blushing, Mary said, “This is an incredible party. You’ve outdone yourself.”

Zelda waved a hand in dismissal. “All of this was Sabrina and Hilda’s doing. I played no part. I’m simply a spectator. If you ask me, New Year’s Eve parties are just an excuse to drink far too much champagne and kiss someone in the name of tradition.”

Mary Wardwell couldn’t help but let her eyes drift to Zelda’s lips at that comment before she caught herself doing it, and made sure to focus on the woman’s eyes instead. “Well, I’ve never thought of the holiday quite like that before. But then, I’ve never had someone to kiss.”

Zelda looked properly shocked at this, which Mary took as a compliment.

“But…and forgive me if this isn’t my place to say…you're a beautiful woman, and weren’t you engaged at one point? Surely, you've at least kissed your fiancé on New Year’s Eve?” said Zelda, looking properly scandalized.

The mention of Adam sent a sharp pain into her chest. “Adam always worked through the holidays. Physicians Without Frontiers would send him away for months—even years—at a time.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” said Zelda, and though the words were sincere, something about the delivery seemed odd to Mary, as if, deep down, Zelda wasn’t sorry at all.

Vaguely, Mary could hear the countdown to the New Year begin.

“Ten seconds,” Mary mused, not knowing what else to say.

Suddenly, Mary became aware of how close Zelda was standing. Had she always been that close, or had she moved closer when Mary wasn’t looking?

“Miss Wardwell, I hope I don’t seem too forward—”

Mary’s eyes drifted once more to Zelda’s lips without her permission.

“…but I would very much like to kiss you.”

As the seconds wound down, Zelda’s head tilted forward, and Mary gave a quick nod.

“Happy New Year!” voices shouted in unison from inside the house, but Mary hardly paid them any notice. Zelda Spellman was kissing her, her lips soft and warm against her own. She tasted of whiskey and cigarettes, but Mary didn’t mind at all. In fact, _she_ was the one who deepened the kiss, bringing a hand up to caress Zelda’s cheek.

Eventually, they parted. Mary mourned the loss of Zelda’s warm mouth almost immediately.

“Happy New Year, Miss Wardwell,” said Zelda, taking Mary’s hands in her own and squeezing them before heading back towards the door. “I hope this new year brings you all the happiness and good fortune that you deserve.”

And with that, she was gone, leaving Mary Wardwell speechless on the doorstep, clutching Zelda’s fur scarf tighter as if to prove that it hadn’t all just been a wonderful dream; she was indeed awake, and she was beginning this new decade with the hope that the future would be kinder to her than the past.


End file.
